The Love That Split the World(38)

“I know.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we go see a movie tonight?”

The thought of going somewhere I’d likely run into classmates makes me feel sick and anxious. I don’t know who knows about Matt and Rachel, but I’d bet money the answer is everyone, which of course makes me feel embarrassed. And angry. It makes it look like he rejected me, completely hides the fact that he practically forced himself on me then ran off to hook up with Rachel for revenge.

“A movie sounds fun,” I tell Mom.

“Really? You don’t have to,” she says hesitantly. “If you already have plans. I would just love to spend some time with my girl.”

“No, no plans,” I say, as if she didn’t already know.

“Great! I’ll just take a quick shower and then we can go.” She kisses the side of my head and walks off.

An hour later, we’re heading over to the theater. Following Alice’s orders, I chose the movie that looks the most disturbing: a drama about a girl who was kidnapped and forced into the sex trade for ten years, until she manages to escape.

“Are you sure about this one?” Mom says, trying and failing to not look horrified. “This kind of thing usually upsets you, doesn’t it?”

“It has a happy ending, I think,” I say.

Mom pays for the tickets and we go into the theater. “Let’s use the bathroom first,” she says. She’ll have to go again in the middle of the movie regardless. It’s the Davidson family curse, apparently, which she inherited from her father. I wouldn’t know what that’s like since I don’t have any Davidson blood. I could probably hold my bladder if a tornado picked me up.

I pee anyway and wash my hands, waiting a minute in the bathroom for Mom to come out. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, okay?” I say finally. When she doesn’t answer, I bend over to look under the stall but her feet aren’t in there. “Mom?” I’m alone in the bathroom. She must’ve already slipped out.

I turn and push through the door, immediately colliding with someone in the lobby. I stumble backward, apologizing, until I see who it is. All the blood drains from my face. “Matt.”

He looks confused, glancing almost impatiently between me and the ticket-taker. “I’m so sorry,” he says, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? I’m horrible with names.”

“Are you serious?” I say, fuming.

His gaze cuts across the lobby again. “I’m really sorry. My girlfriend’s waiting for me inside. It was great to run into you.”

Girlfriend.

He jogs toward the bright red podium and stretch of velvet ropes leading to the theaters, and I’m left staring at his back, my whole body on fire yet tingling with chills. On the one hand, I can’t believe I ever loved him, someone capable of convincingly pretending I’m a complete stranger to him. On the other, I’m legitimately freaked out. Matt’s familiar blue eyes looked blank—no recognition behind them at all—as if really and truly his brain had erased me from its archives. This has “bad dream” written so vehemently all over it that I open and close my eyes hard a few times, hoping I’ll wake up in my bed.

“Ready?”

I turn to find Mom emerging from the bathroom, and more chills rush down my arms.

“Where’d you go?” I ask, biting back the remnants of angry tears.

“I was in the bathroom,” she says. She grabs my chin. “Honey, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I just ran into Matt. He has a new girlfriend.” It’s an easier explanation than the whole truth.

“Oh, baby.” She pulls me into her arms, and we stand there until a woman approaches the bathroom and we realize we’re blocking the way. We step aside and head into the concessions line. “We don’t have to stay,” Mom says. “If you want to go home, that’s fine.”

I shake my head. “I need a distraction.”

She nods. “Okay. But if you change your mind, just say the word.”

We pay for our popcorn and head into our movie. Within five minutes, I know I’ve made a horrible mistake. This movie’s the most upsetting thing I’ve ever seen, and there’s no escaping it. My insides are in alarming turmoil, and I’m fairly sure I’m going to have diarrhea for days. I close my eyes and shut out the sounds.

But when I steer my mind away from the awful plot unfolding in front of me, another gruesome image resurfaces with a vengeance. I think of the boy I fell in love with as we sat on a hillside, swarmed in fireflies, and of how, on the night I broke his heart years later, he promised he could never hate me. Then I think of the guy who just treated me like a stranger. I think of the two different Matts my mind can’t reconcile, and then I think of a story Grandmother told me.



“This is the story of Brother Black and Brother Red,” Grandmother said. “There once was a brother and sister who lived in a lodge deep in a forest. They rarely saw any visitors. The brother was different from other people, in that one half of him was red and one half of him was black.

“One day, he went away to hunt, but no sooner had he left than his sister saw him coming back down the path toward their lodge. ‘I thought you went to hunt,’ she said, following him inside.